An Interesting Night For Romance
by luvmeanddespair
Summary: It's the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding, and we follow events through Hermione's eyes ... which, incidentally, keep wandering to one specific person.


**An Interesting Night for Romance**

I posted this somewhere else, and got lots of love for it. It's basically Bill and Fleur's wedding through Hermione's eyes ... which, incidentally, keep wandering to one specific person.

Anyway, hope you enjoy it. And realise that I don't own anything. But of course you know that.

* * *

Harry raised the bottle of Butterbeer to his lips and took a mouthful, watching the room with a strangely detached air.

_Well, of course he's feeling detached_, Hermione reasoned, somewhat wearily. _He's lost one of the closest people to him not two months ago, and he's carrying the weight of the world – wizarding and Muggle, even if they don't know it – on his shoulders._

She also suspected it was something to do with the way his eyes seemed to follow Ginny's every move …

Sighing heavily, Hermione glanced back at Fleur, who was wafting excitedly around the room, still in her dress, talking to and kissing her guests animatedly. Then turning to Bill to ensure he didn't feel left out …

Hermione had to admit, they did seem to make a pretty good couple. And the ceremony and its lead-up had been … memorable, to say the least.

She had been awoken earlier than she would have liked that morning by Ron, hurtling from room to room in the Burrow in a desperate attempt to locate Bill. This had resulted in a rather loud 'conversation' that succeeded in waking whomever Ron had not, during which, Hermione knew, he had spent rather _too_ much time shouting at her barely-there-nightdress covered chest. Sexist, chauvinistic pig.

Later, at breakfast, (where she was safely enclosed in her dressing gown) she discovered that Charlie had got up for a midnight toilet break to find that the groom-to-be, with whom he was sharing for the night, was not in the room, nor anyone else's, or anywhere in the crowded house; leading, of course, to an hysterical last-minute search for him, which the whole house tried, and failed, to keep from Fleur, despite the fact that she was staying with Tonks' parents, who lived conveniently nearby.

Gleefully happy that there might not be a wedding between her brother and her personal nemesis – all the while conveniently forgetting that Tonks was now unavailable – Ginny had been in a deliriously euphoric mood all through her breakfast fruit salad ('Eet is much less fattening zan zat 'orrible sticky porridge you inseest on,' Fleur had commented the previous day), until Bill was found a few miles away; lying in a ditch, roaring drunk and with absolutely no recollection of how he had got there, after which there very nearly hadn't been a wedding after all.

However, after a sobriety-inducing spell and a heavy lecture form Mrs Weasley – which was, as Fred pointed out, enough to sober anyone up anyway – the wedding was still very much on, to the consternation of both Ginny and Hermione, who was loath to wear a dress as instructed by Molly.

Then, once everyone had managed to arrive almost on time, there had been the unforeseen glitch courtesy of Fleur failing to divulge the fact that at least half her guests were, in the main, part Veela.

Ignoring the whispered verbal wrestling match between Gabrielle and Ginny as they followed an unabashed-looking Fleur up the aisle of seats, the ceremony went fairly smoothly – there were several muffled grunts of pain as Ron and Harry were kicked into remembering to keep their agape mouths shut and their wandering eyes on the bride and groom by Hermione – and through her proud tears, Molly Weasley sighed gratefully that at least there was only the reception left to battle through.

Hermione had long since changed into her dress robes; she thought it strange how she cold be more comfortable in them than she ever could be in a dress, despite their few and far-between differences; she had also long since given up chiding the boys for following Fleur's relatives round with their eyes and mouths wide open.

It was only five minutes after that that they must have decided they had better things to do, Hermione pondered ruefully.

As Ginny wandered over to chat to her, Hermione glanced at Harry, who noticed her gaze as he watched Ginny and quickly turned to Ron, red-faced and guilty looking.

Feeling sympathetic towards him for a moment, it took a few seconds for Hermione to register that Ron did not seem to respond to Harry; it took several more for her to realise that this was because he was, in fact, staring at her with, Hermione thought, an expression similar to that which Harry had worn only moments earlier.

Hermione was shocked. She knew that she should meet his gaze, as she had done with Harry, but it wasn't that simple; for a start, Harry's eyes had not been directed at her, and for another thing … she simply did not dare. Instead, she turned to Ginny, who, it seemed, had been almost bellowing in her ear.

'Down off Planet For-Merlin's-Sake-Just-Admit-You-Both-Love-Each-Other yet?' she half-scowled, holding back a smirk, as Hermione turned slowly redder.

'I don't know what you are talking about,' she retorted in an affronted voice. Ginny raised her own against the music, or maybe just for effect.

'I thought you'd actually managed to get your heads screwed on right when it was coming up to Slughorn's party, and then again after the Lavender Affair …'

'Don't mention her name to me, thank you very much. And yes, so maybe things would've turned out differently if Ron hadn't decided to cast a Permanent Sticking Charm on their mouths after the Quidditch match, and I –

'Overreacted just because you didn't get to be his first kiss,' Ginny teased, and though Hermione turned a little pink, she chose to ignore her.

'Why did he do that, do you think, Ginny? Lavender, I mean. He'd never shown any signs of being attracted to or interested in her before -'

'Unlike with you,' Ginny muttered inaudibly.

'- and one minute he's telling me he doesn't want me to go round kissing McClaggen – well, neither did I – then the next he's being a total jerk to me and hovering up Brown's dinner. I have a hunch, but I can't think how or why he'd have found out …' And she glared at Ginny – who, to give her credit, did try to return it, but quavered under her friend's scowl.

'All right, so I told him you kissed Krum – but he was about ready to rip me and Dean apart when he walked in on us kissing – come to think of it, Harry did too – and I just got really mad and told him that compared to the rest of us he had about as much experience as a twelve year old!'

Hermione groaned. 'Ginny, I told you that because I thought I could trust you. You can't go round complaining about me and Ron when you go telling him stuff like that! And there I was, blaming Ron all the time when you …' She looked at Ron for a while, trying to catch his eye again, but he was now deep in conversation with Harry and after no time at all, it seemed, Fleur was leading the still-heavily scarred Bill into the centre of the room.

A few jangling chords reverberated around their heads; Hermione, who was not surprised to recognise that I wasn't Clestina Warbeck's 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love', knew a slow, soppy ballad when she heard one and barely paid the couple a glance, so caught up was she in her thoughts.

If Ron and Harry hadn't walked in on Ginny and Dean, if Ginny hadn't blurted out Hermione's secret, if her revelations hadn't pushed Ron into Lavender's mouth and their own relationship back several years, would they have managed to go to Slughorn's party – dare she think it – together? For Hermione would not have been so upset that she would have had a flock of birds attack Ron, and Ron would not have been so mad at her as to ignore her, and Hermione would not have felt so vengeful that she would have forced herself into asking Cormac McClaggen, as publicly as she could bear, to go to the party with her. Instead, it would have been Ron walking in there with her, having a good time together, without the overbearing loom of Lavender Brown; laughing and talking and dancing and (she held her breath) kissing …

'Hermione,' whispered Ginny, and she was awoken from her very pleasant daydream to find that the song had finished, and other people were getting up to dance. She stood groggily, as though stepping up from underwater, and exclaimed that she needed some air … but in reality she did not think she could stand to be around Ginny a moment longer.

Not that she blamed the younger girl, she concluded as she stood on a balcony overlooking large ornate gardens, a chill wind whipping through her hair. It was just that Ginny, at the moment, in light of her revelation, represented Hermione's childish, petty behaviour over much of the previous year – and how it had taken the very near loss of Ron forever to force her to open her eyes to that behaviour; it was just easier to be alone for a while.

She was not sure just how much alone time she'd had – she was just beginning to shiver – when she heard footsteps and the French windows behind her opening and closing. 'Okay, Ginny, I'm coming in now, what ever you want me -'

She stopped abruptly as she turned, for although her intruder had a shock of red hair, it was hair that had had copious amounts of hair gel, wand work and spit applied to make it lie flat throughout the day.

'Hey, Hermione,' Ron smiled shrewdly as he walked over to lean on the railings beside her. And she stared out again, in shock and surprise, but all feelings of coldness now gone from her mind.

They were stood there a good while, but contrary to the awkward disquiet she would have expected to come with Ron's arrival, with feelings of not knowing just what to say flitting between them, it was a very comfortable, calm serenity that engulfed them; a peacefulness that Hermione was unwilling to break. After everything they had been through, in the past year alone, she felt the two of them deserved this moment.

But soon she was shivering again, something Ron was quick to pick up on. 'I'd give you my coat,' he whispered as he gently put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to him, 'but I haven't got one with me.'

She giggled as she leaned, no, melted into him, grateful for the waves of warmth radiating from his body. 'That has to be the worst chat-up line I have ever heard,' she murmured, barely moving her lips, unsure as to whether he had heard her or not.

Somewhere out there, a bird began to sing, but its voice was soon drowned out by many more below them, as the long shadows of people on the patio blocked the light from inside the recently opened conservatory doors, long fingers of darkness sneaking their way down the long lawns.

Ignoring the raucous exodus below them, Hermione sighed contentedly, which Ron did hear, and smiled at.

'What's wrong with us, hey,' he breathed. 'Sometimes all I think I'm here for is to argue with you, then we do something like this and I get all these weird feelings and I …' Struggling to continue, he bit his lip. 'I just wish we could be normal.'

Trying to keep her wide smile out of her voice, she replied, 'Well, what would you class as normal?'

'When you're a Weasley …' he shrugged with a laugh. 'Nothing's normal.'

There were a few more minutes of companionable silence, and then Ron started hesitantly, 'When we were at the Ministry … when we were fighting the Death Eaters … not just at the Ministry, at Hogwarts too -'

'I can't believe we're never going back,' Hermione broke in, her voice breaking. He rested his chin on her hair and cuddled her close for a while.

'I know,' he said soothingly, 'but we've got a job to do and … we'll be with Harry. I mean, now we don't have Dumbledore …'

He left the sentence unfinished.

'Carry on with what you were saying about the Death Eaters,' Hermione said after a few moments, her voice a little stronger.

'Oh. Well, I was really worried for everyone, and I was trying to protect Ginny all the time, but after we all got separated, I realised that I'd been trying to protect you too. And – and not for the same reason as Ginny.'

She swallowed.

'Then when I found out you'd nearly died, whilst I'd been blabbering on about nothing in particular …' He glared into the gathering darkness of night.

'It wasn't your fault, Ron,' she told him roughly. A small noise of disbelief caught in his throat. 'No, it wasn't,' she repeated, pulling away from his comforting warmth to stare at him. 'What would you have done if you'd been there – done the chivalrous thing and stepped in front of me? Told them all to jinx you and not me?'

'I just wish I'd been there -'

'Well, Ron you weren't – even if you had been it would have made no difference – and what's done is done.'

A chill ran through her that wasn't much anything to do with the weather, and Hermione noticed the cheers from the party below them for the first time.

'Come on,' she said bitterly. 'We should probably join them.'

For a minute she was worried that Ron would just let her go, and they'd be back to square one yet again, but then she felt him take her elbow as she walked past.

'Don't go,' he offered simply.

And she didn't. Instead they were hugging very tightly and then her back was against his chest and her head was leaning on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry about this morning,' he said easily, 'about the argument and the - the other thing.'

She closed her eyes and smiled as his arms wrapped around her, almost protectively, vaguely noticing that most of the crowd that had been beneath them had returned indoors. Maybe it had gotten too cold for them – but not for her.

'I'm sorry too. I didn't know I was so irresistible.'

He hit her gently before pulling her closer. She laid a hand over his wrist, resting by her waist.

As they moved slowly back and forth to the music filtering through the French windows, Hermione asked, somewhat boldly, she felt, 'What are you thinking about?'

'About how nosy you are, maybe? I was just thinking how strange it is, we're all here, fairly happy, when in a few days we'll be going out there, trying to destroy what's left of his soul.' He shivered. 'It's not a particularly nice thought, is it? How about you?'

'I was thinking how perfect all this is, to me, and how I want so much to just stay here, forever,' she answered dreamily. 'And how I'm sorry I was so awful to you over Lavender and sorry that I waited until you nearly died to see how silly I was being. I mean, it's not like I ever said anything, or had some sort of reserve over you …'

'Wow, that's … that's an interesting thought,' Ron replied after a pause. 'You know, Hermione -'

Suddenly there was a bang behind them. They jumped and turned, Ron automatically letting his arms drop from around Hermione, to see Harry staring at them.

'There you are,' he said uncertainly. 'We weren't sure where you were. Aren't you cold? You should probably come back in.'

Glancing up at Ron, Hermione followed Harry in, all the while mentally screaming a mixture of nasty jinxes and curse words at him. She would have given anything to continue the conversation.

The three of them got another drink and sat at a table with Mr and Mrs Weasley, where they were joined before too long by Ginny, who sat by Hermione in the corner, along with Fred and George.

'So,' Ginny started in a low voice, 'where did you disappear off to for near an hour? And was Ron with you, by any chance?'

'We were just on the balcony,' Hermione replied in a measured but quiet voice. She glanced down the table but both Ron and Harry were listening to the twins' anecdote of how they had scared some poor girl with their 'Twin? What identical twin?' routine. 'Talking.'

'About?'

'About things we should have talked about months ago, or even earlier than that.' She looked at her friend. '_Private_ things.'

'Okay, I get the idea.. And did you find out anything?'

'I found out that you're never seeing Harry again. He walked in on us when Ron was trying to tell me something,' she added as she spotted Ginny's confusion. 'So I'm going to kill him next opportunity I get. Anyway, I got a few things sorted out, in my head and, I hope, Ron's, but we're still not really moving anywhere, fast or otherwise.'

Ginny laid a sympathetic hand on her arm. 'Hey, you two are meant for each other. You got past Krum and Lavender, didn't you? You'll be together some way. In fact,' she concluded, with a cheeky gleam in her eye, 'I look forward to introducing you as my sister-in-law.'

Hermione spluttered into her glass and went to hit Ginny, but she had already scooted off, presumably to dance.

In fact, Hermione noticed that a lot of people were getting up. Molly had accepted Arthur's outstretched hand, giggling like a schoolgirl, and the twins had seemingly managed to hook themselves two stunning girls, whom Hermione vaguely remembered Fleur introducing as a couple of her many cousins. She glared suspiciously at Harry, who had gotten up and wandered off in the same direction as Ginny; leaving only herself and Ron at their table, avoiding each other's gaze.

Glancing around the room, it looked to Hermione as though they were the only ones not getting up to dance to the song – what was it, anyway? She had never heard it during Molly's favourite WWN broadcast, Slow Songs and Love Potions, and was just beginning to remember that it was a Muggle song her mother had fallen in love with a few years beforehand when she realised that Ron was stood next to her. She swallowed.

'Want to dance?' he asked, seemingly nonchalant.

She smiled her reply, and as they made their way to the crowded centre of the room she surreptitiously took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers, and he looked down at her and gave her that look she knew he saved for her; the small lift of the corners of his mouth, that slight tilt of his head, those laughing, sparkling eyes that always seemed to add a touch more adorability especially for her …

And as they danced, their hands on the small of each other's backs, her head resting on his chest, she wondered what had gone so wrong with them, why fate had picked them out to scramble up and mess around with – after all, there were plenty of people who led perfectly dysfunctional-free lives, whereas they were not only falling in love with their best friend, they also happened to be the best friends of one of the most famous wizards ever, and were preparing to fight – and possibly, probably, be killed by – another one.

But so what if it wasn't a simple, easy life? – it was a damn sight more interesting to Hermione's mind.

She didn't care that a lot of people were staring at them slow-dancing so intimately, or that Harry was currently twirling Ginny around. Her world had shrunk, like the remains of a supernova, the supernova that had been their lives so far, until all it contained was her and Ron, moving slowly to distant music; moving to the rhythm of their heartbeats.

Sighing contentedly, hardly aware of what she was doing, Hermione let go of Ron's back and snaked her palms up his torso, until they hung lazily over his shoulders, meeting at the nape of his neck.

Theirs was a tight embrace that lasted even after the song had finished, and a witch's ballad, Spells of the Enchanting Kind, had begun.

'What were you going to tell me on the balcony, before Harry so kindly burst in on us?' she asked him, whispering so as not to be overheard by the other swaying couples.

He frowned. 'What were we talking about?'

'About Lavender, and how, um, silly I'd been over you and her …'

Swallowing, he replied, 'Yeah … I remember. I was going to say something about … about …' He glanced guiltily down at her. 'Something about Lavender, actually.'

'Oh,' was all she could think to reply, and even that came out a little stiffly.

He gave her a small worried smile. 'It's nothing bad, I swear. It's just that when we were out there, it seemed completely natural to say it, you know? I might sound a bit stupid if I just come out with it now.'

'I don't care. Just tell me,' Hermione insisted, feeling a little colder, a little emptier. What horrible, horrible thing would he tell her?

Ron cleared his throat. 'Well, what I was going to tell you is that mine and Lavender's … relationship was just purely physical. No, not like that!' he added hastily, with a look of shocked that matched Hermione's. 'I just meant that that was no, like … erm, really emotional … stuff. Aw, jeez, Hermione, you're so much better at this than me!' he finished despairingly.

'Wow, I really can't see why Lavender dumped you,' she replied sarcastically. 'You make her feel fantastic; you have such a way with words …'

'I actually know what the heck my 'feelings' are,' Ron continued, laughing. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of what he'd been about to say, and they continued dancing in silence for a few minutes.

_Merlin, this song is long, _Hermione thought, leaning her head on Ron again. Then suddenly he was pushing her hair away from her face and whispering in her ear again.

'I never loved her; towards the end of it all, I didn't even like her, not as much as – not very much.'

And although she was feeling content and drowsy, and hardly concentrating on his words, she did not, _could_ not miss his quick change of tack, nor his slowly reddening face, and she did not have to wonder for very long to imagine what his next words would have been: _I didn't even like her, not as much as I do you._

And then suddenly she was very awake, and very aware of what she was doing, and where her arms were, and how they had been behaving all night. It still felt right, all of it; she was just very aware of it.

'Still definitely friends?' Ron asked tentatively, as the song finally prepared to draw to a close.

'Still definitely friends,' she replied, fighting hard, and not sure if she won or lost, to keep bitter disappointment out of her fake jovial tone.

She obediently rotated on the spot with him, and gazed at Remus and Tonks – who had a rose from the bouquet she had caught earlier tucked into her bright pink hair, which clashed terribly – waltzing around the others, her eyes glazed as she fought an inner battle.

_What if that's all you'll ever be? How can you stand seeing him every day – knowing how he feels, how you feel – and just standing aside whilst he does too? And how will you feel when he meets someone else, and she becomes something you'll never be? How would you cope, walking up the aisle with him as _just_ a bridesmaid, _just_ a friend, a friend he just had a crush on, long ago; and then, watching him have a family you're no part of; seeing him grow old with someone who isn't you?_

_I'd rather die._

The song ended on one long, rather high note from the witch, which was finally drowned out by applause from the room as the lights gradually brightened.

Hermione was suddenly haunted by a vision of Ron, old and greying, dancing with a tall, blonde, stunningly beautiful woman, who morphed into an elderly Lavender, with a diamond ring on her left hand.

And then Ron was hugging her and giving her a wicked grin and turning to go – but she couldn't let him go.

She caught his arm.

He turned inquisitively, and before he was entirely sure of what she was doing, Hermione was pulling him closer to her and using all the levity her heels would give her, and her face was drawing ever nearer to his …

She kissed his cheek. 'Thank you for the dance,' she whispered, feeling a little pink as she smiled, turned and walked away as quickly as her dignity would allow, grabbing Ginny's elbow to drag her along with her as she did so.

Ron considered calling after her, but thought it might look a little desperate – and Fred and George were already staring at him with a look of glee he knew had nothing to do with the girls hanging off their arms. Instead he lightly touched the corner of his mouth, where Hermione's lips had met him.

_Well,_ he thought finally, trying to control his thoughts, as he caught Harry staring in the direction he himself had just pulled himself away from – namely that in which Hermione and his sister and just disappeared – _well, it looks like it's been an interesting night for romance all round._

* * *

Reviews are love. Thanks for reading.


End file.
